Revenge in Chemical Form
by QueenofBookworms
Summary: After the Drama lesson from Brecon Beacons aka Hell, Fox finds himself in Alex's Chemistry lesson. Second in Revenges series.


Fox sighed, scowling at the back of Cub's head as he did so. Yes, high school Chemistry had been fun, but it had never ever meant that Fox had wanted to sit through those lessons again! Honestly. When Fox had signed up for the SAS, he'd thought that the only time he'd ever go near a high school again would be if he was chasing some terrorist through it. Or blowing up said high school (thereby fulfilling a teenage dream).

But no. They'd been assigned the task of looking after Cub, so they (they being K Unit) had to go to the damn high school Cub attended.

Stupid Cub. Damn kid couldn't keep his nose out of other's people's business, and the damn kid just had to have killed two SCORPIA heads, and destroyed two of SCORPIA's projects, and he just had to have lived through assassination plots, and he just had to have escaped SCORPIA's hands, and thereby achieved more than any other adult.

Stupid kid.

Fox scowled again, glaring at the kids who looked at him when the teacher, Mrs Loyt, introduced him as a SAS soldier who was looking after them after two gunmen had gone on a rampage through the school last week.

Rider smirked.

Fox swore. Silently, of course. He had to watch his language around the teens.

At least, he was _meant_ to.

The teacher started talking. Apparently, this lesson would focus on dangerous compounds and mixtures and [insert a whole heap of stupid technical rubbish that Fox couldn't remember from his high school days].

Honestly. Why did they do this rubbish? Better if the kids learnt how to disarm a soldier. That was probably better for them, and more relevant, given their placement on 'Top Ten Places that the British Government Had Better Look After if They Don't Want the Public to Murder Them'.

Sighing, Fox stood and moved from his place at the back of the classroom. Clasping his hands behind his back (and looking more professional as a result), the SAS soldier moved around the classroom, examining the windows and door, and then checking outside, in the hallway. He ignored the gazes of the students, and particularly ignored Rider.

The classroom was a rectangular classroom, with the door at the front, where the teacher's desk (a particularly long white bench complete with water and gas taps, a computer and plenty of cupboards (which stored all the equipment)) and white board were situated. Three columns of white benches, sitting two people each (and which were basically smaller versions of the teacher's desk, minus the computers) were for the students, and all faced the front.

He frowned. Who was in Rider's class next? Snake… In… Latin. Why would anyone study Latin? Stupid Rider.

"Ms Loyt, are any of these combinations used in bombs, and stuff, by the military?" asked a sadly familiar voice.

Fox winced. Rider.

He turned, and glared at the boy, who didn't seem to notice.

"Why don't we ask the nice SAS soldier here?"

Fox choked. Nice SAS solider? That was an oxymoron in itself. Come to think of it, after Latin, Rider had English … with…Wolf. The poor guy had, quite literally, drawn the short straw.

Not that Fox felt sorry for Wolf…Or Rider.

"Sorry?" he asked, coming back to the present.

"We just want to know, what chemical compounds are used in the bombs that you deploy in Iraq and so on?"

"Um, er, I'm not sure, really." Fox wondered why any soldier would want to, or need to, know that sort of stuff.

The teacher frowned. "You mean to say, that the soldiers who safeguard Britain's waters are using bombs that they don't know about? I would expect that, if you are using such dangerous items, you would take every step to ensure you are aware of what the items are made of."

Fos sighed. This woman was obviously one of those fanatic 'Let's-criticise-everything-the-government-does' people.

"What I mean to say is that I am aware of how to use the bombs but I wouldn't know the chemical compounds and stuff."

"Oh, as though that's enough!"

"But," Rider interrupted, "shouldn't you know what's in the substances themselves? I mean, the people who make them would put the lists on the outside, and what if they make a mistake and it's a really dangerous compound?"

There were nods in agreement. Fox was not appreciating the 'let's-make-Fox-look-stupid' movement.

"Well, firstly, we trust the makers of our bombs to not make mistakes – Yes, what's –your-name?

"Rider. And, what if they're hijacked, or something?"

"Top-level security measures, Rider."

"But still! They could be hijacked!"

"Every bomb is also thoroughly checked by a trusted and certified group."

"Which could also get hijacked."

"Rider! Not everything is hijack-able! And how do you propose to hijack a person?"

"Corruption? Bribery. Plus, you could get plastic surgery. Get someone on your side to look exactly like him." A girl next to him whacked Cub. "Or her."

"And who would pay, and do, said plastic surgery?"

"I dunno. There are some really big and rich terrorists out there. They could get people."

Belatedly, Fox remembered that someone had done the exact same thing to Cub.

"Oh yes, I have heard cases of that," he said, finally. Cub smirked. Fox glared at him. Cub didn't stop smirking.

Bastard.

Still scowling, Fox snarled, "The SAS don't use many bombs. We're an elite squad, so we're more like the drop-in squad that does a quick clean out. The bombs are used mostly by the standard army who come in after us and do a proper clean out."

"Wouldn't you use, I dunno, stun grenades, then?" asked Cub. Fox groaned. Why did that damn kid have to get military training? It made it easier for him to annoy Fox, after all.

Damn bloody kid. Straight from the pits of Brecon Beacon. Oh yeah. The kid had actually gone there...

(For those who were not in the SAS, most SAS soldiers referred to Hell as Brecon Beacons, for obvious reasons.)

"Yes, but, stun grenades aren't actually bombs."

"Don't they blow up?"

"Yes, but –"

"Then they're bombs!"

"They...Oh. Fine. For the purposes of this discussion, stun grenades are bombs." Fox's voice was disgusted.

"Alex, please don't annoy the SAS soldier."

"Sorry, Mrs Loyt. I'm just really curious."

"Do you plan on a career in the military?" asked a kid near to Alex, who merely shrugged.

Fox sighed again. Ever since Cub had practically saved the entire school from being murdered by the gunmen a week ago, he'd had a fan club.

Stupid goddamned boy. Why didn't SAS soldiers get fan clubs? Or MI6 agents, for that matter?

He noticed a girl blushing at something her neighbour had said, before both girls oh-so-subtly glanced at him. They noticed him looking, and both blushed, and turned away.

He had a fan club. Fox grinned.

Even if members of said fan club were either fifteen or fourteen.

He sighed again.

"So, err, Fox, was it?" the teacher asked. Fox nodded. "Right, so what's the chemical make-up of a stun grenade?"

"How should I know?"

"You use them," she replied, somewhat disapprovingly. Fox groaned, once again.

"Err, something beginning with 'm' I think," replied Fox, weakly. The teacher frowned.

"Manganese?" she asked. Fox shook his head. "Mercury?"

Frowning, Fox stared out the window for several seconds, before he shrugged, replying, "Think so."

"Magnesium, by any chance?"

"Er, yeah, possibly."

"Magnesium is a rather dangerous chemical – that would make sense, actually. I believe, when those two are together," someone snorted, Fox suspected a deliberate misinterpretation of the teacher's words by teenage hormones, "that there would be a rather large explosion? Piers, don't misinterpret me."

"It's a stun grenade. When it goes off, there's a huge flash and a loud noise and you either end up completely out of it, or at least severely dizzy."

"Is it possible to be conditioned against it?"

"Yeah. SAS training." Fox grimaced. Cub raised an eyebrow. Fox scowled at him.

"So what about the standard bombs used by the army? What are they made outta?"

"I'm SAS, kid, I don't do normal army."

"But you must've been in the normal army before you went into the SAS," Cub pointed out. Damn annoying, smart-arse kids who knew everything.

"Look, I really have no idea."

"And yet, you use these weapons," the teacher lamented. "Oh. Lord. When our own army doesn't know the chemical makeup of their own weapons..."

"Look, we learn how to use them, how to not use them, how to defend against them and how to keep them clean and safe. Chemical makeup we leave to the scientists."

"But what happens when the scientists do something wrong?" Alex asked.

Fox's hand reached, threateningly, for his gun. "We've had this discussion."

"I think you're annoying the dangerous SAS soldier," someone stage-whispered.

"Meh."

Fox's hand settled on the gun.

"Look, Al, I really think—"

The bell went. The class quickly dispersed, many shooting worried glances at Fox, who was left with Alex.

The teacher had all but fled. She hadn't missed the irritated glare Fox had sent her earlier.

"I can't exactly kill you now, can I?"

"Nope. I got something, so I kinda have to leave, now." Alex scowled when Fox blocked him.

"You have Latin. With Snake. Expect him to have been pep-talked by me before he comes into your class." Fox paused and then continued, "And English, with Wolf. And PE, with Eagle."

Fox's grin could only be described as something Wolf would use on his enemy.

Alex gulped.

**A/N: Used this site: **http : / / www . eliteukforces . info / special-air-service / weapons / stun-grenade . php ** (minus the spaces, of couse) to research stun grenades. Neat lil' piece of work. I did put in 'materials used in bombs' in google. I'm kinda worried that the police are gonna come knocking on my door asking why the hell I wanted to know that. XD Anyway, when I get around to writing it, Revenge in Lingual Form! But only if I get reviews...**


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